


(Not Quite) Blue Eyes

by florencedrunk



Series: The March 2017 Stucky Challenge [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Dead Steve Rogers - Freeform, M/M, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 16:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10032518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florencedrunk/pseuds/florencedrunk
Summary: It starts with a dream: a pair of eyes — kind eyes. Blue, but not quite, with a hint of green just beneath the surface. He doesn't know where they come from. But he wants to know, desperately.256. oblivion





	

 

It starts with a dream: a pair of eyes — kind eyes. Blue eyes, but not quite, with a hint of green just beneath the surface. He doesn't know where they come from. But he wants to know, desperately.

 

* * *

 

"You understand this procedure is irreversible, yes?" the doctor asked, words marked by a thick German accent.

"I do," Bucky said, nodding. He wanted to seem convinced. He wasn't, but this was the only way.

"Good," the doctor said, smiling a yellow smile. "We shall begin at once, then."

The room at the end of the corridor was a filthy shade of green, with no windows and big square tiles covering the floor. In the middle of the otherwise empty space, stood a contraption vaguely resembling a chair. A nurse strapped him to it, and electricity buzzed from the wires to the machine to his skull. He screamed, maybe, but he couldn't hear himself over the noise of his own thoughts being burned away from his mind.

 

* * *

 

The thing about forgetting is that you never know you have. You never know you've lost a piece of yourself, or how big and important it was. So, you go on.

 

* * *

 

The apartment is empty.

Sometimes, he sets the table for two, even if he's not expecting anyone for dinner. He confines himself to one side of the bed, even if there's no one occupying the other half. Sometimes, he wakes up with wet eyes and a name on the tip of his tongue, but he never manages to get it out of his lips.

His apartment is empty, and it has always been. He's always lived alone. Still, sometimes he can't help but feel like he's waiting for someone to come through the front door.

"Are you okay?" Nat asks him one evening. The fact she's asking means she already knows he isn't. She always knows.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You tell me, James."

"It's— It's nothing."

She looks she really wants to say something, but when she finally speaks, she says just, "I'm here if you want to talk, you know, right?"

He knows, but he doesn't think it'd do any good.

 

* * *

 

The thing about forgetting is that you never really forget, not entirely. You know something is missing, but you don't know what that is.

 

* * *

 

There's a man. He's tall and handsome and has dirty blond hair and eyes that are too blue. His lips are as sweet as cherry pie, and he moans as he gets inside Bucky. It's nice — good, even — but it doesn't right. It doesn't feel... whole, not in the way it should.

Afterwards, Bucky cries. He doesn't know why. He never knows why, these days.

 

* * *

 

The thing about forgetting is that you never know what you've forgotten. But once you know you're missing something, you find yourself craving it.

 

* * *

 

"You asked me not to do this," Nat explains. She’s crying. Natalia never cries.

"No, I didn't."

"You did, and then you forgot," she says. "I shouldn't have let you do this."

She gives him an address.

 

* * *

 

There's a graveyard outside of Brooklyn. It's where Bucky's parents are buried, but he hasn't visited them in a long, long time. This morning, though, he's not there for them.

He's not even sure what he's there for, really. He's just walking, waiting. He figures he'll know once he finds it. And he does.

The tombstone is simple: white marble and a name carved into it. Beneath, dates. One, he recognises just about two months before his dreams started. There's a photo, too: a man — blond hair, blue eyes, with a hint of green just beneath the surface.

Bucky cries. He has no idea of who this man is.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you have questions or just want to say hi you can find me on [tumblr](http://florencedrunk.tumblr.com).


End file.
